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d one piece of clothing left. Would he let me keep it?
He tipped his head to the pole next to me as if telling me to dance on it. I had no idea how to work a pole. Without any strength, I wasn’t sure I could twirl around it, let alone climb up it. The metal bar was cold between my fingers, sending a chill through me.
Anthony moved his arm, the camera still clutched in his hand, following my every move.
“Send it,” Dante said to him. “Let’s see how much trouble she’s worth.”
Chapter Twelve
Angelo
After almost drowning to death, Sal told Pete where Enzo was hiding. We were on our way to the safe house in North Jersey, about five minutes from the location when Pete broke the silence in the car.
He turned in the passenger seat to look at me, pinning me down with his menacing gaze. “No matter what, keep your shit together. Dead men don’t talk. We’ll never get your girl back if you go around popping people. Got it?”
I crossed my arms over my chest and blew out a puff of air. “Yeah, I got it, bro. I don’t need a lecture from you every day.”
“I wouldn’t have to give one if you’d listen. You don’t see me telling Sonny and Marco how to act every fucking day. There’s no place for feelings in this business, Angelo. Even if we find Gia dead in a fucking ditch, you can’t retaliate. To win a war, you need a plan. You have to be smart, think with your head and not your heart.”
“The last time I checked, I’m the lawyer in this family. I’m the one who should be advising you, Pete.”
“No way will you ever be my consigliere when you can’t focus and keep your head in the game.”
“Good thing I’m working for Pop and not you,” I shot back.
“If anything happens to the old man, I will be the boss. You will still take orders from me. Nothing will change. Don’t like it? You know the way out, baby bro.”
Pete let out an exaggerated groan and spun around the face the front of the car, crossing his arms over his chest.
We almost never got along. Even as children, we were always at odds. My older brothers did whatever my father asked of them. They were the good sons. Obedience was key in my family. Marco and Pete knew their place, played their part. I knew the way out of my family all too well. My death and the blood of others would pave the way.
Gia would never truly walk away from this lifestyle, no matter what I did to stop her from getting in too deep. She was part of it already. There were dozens of reasons for someone to take her from me. The prime suspect was Enzo. I killed his son. Blood demanded blood, and I had to pay for my sins.
We sat in silence for the remainder of the drive to Cedar Grove. Marco pulled onto a street with nothing but split-level homes, in a suburban neighborhood which was far too quiet for comfort. Pete was right about being smart. We couldn’t go into the safe house and start shooting whoever was inside. One pop of our guns would draw the police here within minutes. But we had to be prepared.
Following Pete’s lead, we exited the car and walked toward the house in the middle of the deserted block. With our guns in hand, checking our surroundings, we crept along the left side of the house. A few houses down, the neighbors had on their outdoor lights, the soft glow casting its shadow on the pavement. Pete went straight for the basement door with Marco behind him and Sonny on my rear.
We had no idea how many men were taking cover here. For all we knew, we were walking into a trap. My life was worth nothing compared to Gia’s. She was all that mattered to me. With each day that had passed, I was becoming more desperate to find her.
That’s why I had to listen to Pete. He was the voice of reason when I had none. I couldn’t be trusted in my condition, which was why Pete never let me out of his sight. At least my brothers were willing to help me find Gia. After all the years we were at odds, we were finally coming together—like a real family.
Pete turned the rusted handle on the basement door, and it surprisingly opened on the first turn. He glanced over his shoulder at us and shook his head. Something was off about this situation. With his gun pointed into the dark space, Pete pushed open the door far enough for us to see inside.
“I don’t like this,” Pete whispered to Marco who agreed.
Nothing about this scenario was right. The place sent chills up my arms. A safe house would have been heavily guarded, not left wide open for us to roam. Every lead we had on Enzo and his crew was drying up. I was starting to lose hope we would find Gia alive. She’d been gone for over a week without any contact from the men who took her.
Marco removed the cell phone from his pocket and used the light to shine it on the vacant cellar. It was an unfinished basement with exposed beams in the ceiling, dirt walls, and windows that were painted and sealed shut. I turned to look at Sonny and pointed at the windows.
He nodded, his teeth ground together in anger. “This is the place.”
We stepped inside, taking our time. I noticed the old radiator in the far corner of the room. It had a pair of handcuffs shackled to the pipe that went into the floor. Just like Sonny said, it was leaking. An old, dirty plastic bowl was on the floor next to the door near the radiator along with a half-full water bottle. This was where Sonny had been held for almost a week. He hadn’t been lying about being kidnapped.
Pete took out his cell phone and ordered us to do the same, so we had enough light to navigate through the dank space. When we reached the metal door on the opposite side of the basement, Pete yanked on the knob, and it gave without any issue. No one was in sight. Not a sound. A sickness rose up from my stomach, the bile choking me. I was terrified Gia was here. What worried me the most was the condition in which we would find her.
If a ransom was the angle of her kidnappers, they would have called by now. They would have stated their demands. Whoever took her wanted me to suffer. I’d hurt so many people while working for my father. Enzo Mancuso was the only person who had a legitimate reason to want me dead. I killed his son. He wanted the blood of the only woman I had ever loved as payment. It was that simple. Gia was paying the price for my sins, as I had paid for my father’s sins.
We moved through the dark hallway and up a flight of steps without spotting anything out of place. Mattresses and sleeping bags were scattered on the living room and dining room floors. The kitchen still smelled of spices, as if someone had cooked in the past few hours. Plates of spaghetti were on the table along with baskets of sliced bread, salad, other pasta dishes, and decanters of wine. A crew of men had been living in the house where they’d tortured Sonny.
